DC Intern
by darkliss
Summary: Fitz, Olivia and the Beginning of Everything
1. Chapter 1

**DC Intern**

Prologue

His voice, when he speaks, is deep and quiet.

"Take off your clothes."

She looks him in the eye as she takes off her shoes, her jacket, her dress. She stands in front of him in her white lace underwear, waiting for him to say something. Do something.

But he just keeps gazing at her with hot eyes, saying nothing until she breaks and looks down, suddenly vulnerable, unsure.

He walks toward her.

Pressing her into the door, he picks her up and kisses her, hard.

Chapter One – The Beginning of Everything

Olivia Pope woke up in her bed with a jolt. This was it, today was the day. Today was the day she began her internship. At the white House.

The White House.

Fuck!

She got up and showered before getting dressed in the clothes she had laid out the night before. She had put a large dent in her credit card buying some new outfits for the summer. Some light makeup and checking her hair hadn't curled in the night and she was ready to go.

She walked down to the train station and hopped on the train to Union station. Be there at 8 the woman on the phone had said. It was at least a half hour walk from Union station and it was a 40 minute journey to there and a half hour walk to the nearest station to her small studio apartment plus 40 minutes to get ready in the morning. She had to be up at 5.40am every morning for the next 6 months. But it was worth it. It was going to be so, so worth it.

"Olivia Pope, I'm an intern. It's… it's my first day."

A tentative smile and hands fumbling to find her ID, Olivia felt a small thrill saying the words to the guard at the gate and again on the door. She gave a small look at the people around her walking in like it was nothing, like it was normal. Well, to hell with them.

This was everything.

She found herself stood with a group of six other interns, all with the same wide eyes as her.

"Hello Interns, my name is Lauren Romano. Welcome to the White House. For the next six months you are going to eat, sleep and breath what I tell you to. You will do 4 different rotations while you're here before deciding on which team you'd like to work in for the final three months. One of you will be fired, one of you will quit and two of you will request to defer. It happens every year, people." Lauren began moving toward the doorway before pausing to look back. The interns were staring at her, dazed. Lauren clucked impatiently and gestured with her hands for them to follow her. "And, we're walking…"

The next week was a blur, orientation, so many people, names and job titles. And Olivia felt like she was home.

"There is a remote, small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that you may see POTUS walking through the halls, most likely while you are on rotation in the Chief of Staff's office. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT speak to him, look at him or in any way attempt to engage him. He is the leader of the free world and you are interns, the bottom of the food chain. He will not thank you for taking up his day with your nonsense. Have I made myself clear?"

Lauren looked around the group with a no-nonsense look on her face, as if to say don't even think about it.

Olivia was no groupie. She admired the president but she was serious about her career. She wasn't some wide-eyed girl with low self-esteem trying to get noticed. She was here to pay her dues, network and to get a killer reference for her resume. Yes, she admired President Grant. He was a great man, a moderate republican and a war hero and he was doing some great things. It was an exciting time to be in the White House, his was going to be one of the great administrations, like Clinton or Kennedy or Roosevelt. And if he was easy on the eyes then that was just a bonus.

An irrelevant, immaterial bonus.

Yeah, right.

She knew some of the girls at Georgetown in her Political Science classes who went on and on about how hot he was, about his presidential swagger, about his voice, about his _I don't give a damn_ attitude.

About what he must be like in bed.

Olivia blushed. She almost didn't like to even think of him in those terms. He stood for something so much better than that. She felt it cheapened him to think of him as a man with sexual urges.

She shook her head to clear these ridiculous thoughts away. For now, it was keep your head down, do a good job and try to keep up.

She was three weeks into her internship. She was exhausted but learning so much, every day was just a whirlwind of activity and Olivia loved it. She smiled at her favourite guard on the gate each morning as she swiped in and then made her way to her desk for this week. This was her last day on her first rotation, admin. She and the other interns were moving to the press office to do research and grunt work for the next three weeks. She would be able to watch press briefings and be present during department meetings. She couldn't wait. That was Monday, tonight was all about relaxing after work with the other interns. There was Abby, a well-connected, waspish, slightly haughty red-head; Huck, a grungy IT genius; Harrison, a slick pre-law student; Quinn, whose Daddy knew someone in the chief of staff's office; and Charlie and Jake, both a bit older, ex-military types who kept more to themselves. Tonight Abby, Huck, Harrison and Quinn were going out with Olivia for a celebratory drink for surviving the first three weeks.

That night Olivia got dressed at her apartment. She rented a studio above a Chinese take-out in Brentwood. A small, airless room that reeked of Chinese food. She got ready in a backless black dress and black heels, hair back off her face and went to meet her new friends in The Bottom Line. A dark dive bar not too far from 1600 Pen.

"To being a gladiator in a suit..." Harrison hollered for the fifth (sixth?) time that night. And they all knocked back another shot of vodka.

"I really wanna dance," shouted Quinn. "Come on, Gladiators, let's go…" She led them all onto the dance floor where they proceeded to spend the next three hours until drunk, sweaty and tired they all made their ways home at 4am.

Monday morning. Alarm, shower, make up, hair, get dressed, walk, train, walk, swipe. Coffee. Work.

Press rotation was going to be amazing. Olivia and Abbey found themselves whispering names as they were shown round, talking heads off TV were suddenly real-life people standing just over there. These were people whose opinions mattered and they were right there.

"David Rosen," whispered Abbey as she spied the Attorney General.

"Verna Thornton," mouthed Olivia as they walked through the corridors.

"This is going to be so amazing," Abbey was practically vibrating with excitement as they followed the staffer assigned to induct them today. Suddenly, they stopped and the staffer showing them round, motioned for them to stand to the side of the corridor. Olivia looked up and saw Mrs Grant, Mellie, walking down the corridor towards them in a flurry of movement. Flanked by people on both sides with a secret service agent following them. Olivia felt as though time slowed as she passed by, Olivia couldn't help but look at the first lady as she walked, an impression of height, hair and colour was really all that she was left with. Returning to herself she ran a little to catch up with the staffer and the other interns as they continued on their tour.

"So, you will be doing background research on these people, and then when you have done that we need you to begin researching constitutional precedents of these." Two huge stacks of paper on the table in the small meeting room and some ipads. Olivia looked at the faces of her fellow gladiators and saw her own thoughts reflected. "Ok," she said, "let's get to work!"

Another three weeks had passed. More Friday nights out for the gladiators. She had watched a real press briefing. She had sat in meetings where spin and coverage were hashed out. Did they win the cycle? Who was talking, tweeting, posting? Seeing the PR team working on President Grant's brand. Buzz for the new bill being pushed through congress. Truly impressive stuff, Olivia was hooked.

But this Monday was going to be a little bit more. This Monday morning, when her alarm went off and she began her daily commute she would be heading into work in Chief of Staff's office. It was all she had ever wanted to do and now it was going to actually, really be happening.

This Monday morning, Olivia found herself, alongside the other interns, in the daily briefing for the Chief of Staff's team. This was the hub of the west Wing. This was where decisions got made. This was the office that liaised directly with the Oval. This was the office that oversaw policy, that oversaw diplomacy. Olivia felt like her whole body was humming with an anticipation, for what she wasn't sure. There was a lot to get through so when Mark, the Deputy Chief of Staff called to start the meeting everyone quietened down immediately. Mark ran through some daily house-keeping before hitting up the meetings main focus, which was the presidents upcoming visit to China next month. It wasn't a state visit, it was strictly off the books for some back room preliminary talks before trade negotiations began in earnest next year. Just as Mark had raised the question of discussing China the doors burst open and in strode President Grant, flanked by his two Secret Service guys. To Olivia it felt as though all the air in the room had been sucked out. A heavy silence settled and it felt as though everything had just slipped into high definition, every sound, every sight. He was taller than she thought he would be. He seemed to fill the room.

"Good Morning, everyone. Mark," Fitz nodded to Mark, "Please, just pretend I'm not here." Fitz took a step to the side, ostensibly to make himself inconspicuous but still with every eye in the room still on him. As Mark began to speak, "Thank you, Mr President…" Fitz cast his gaze around the room. He was familiar with most of these people, lots of them having worked on his campaign. Suddenly his eyes lightened upon Olivia. She was looking at Mark, taking notes as he spoke. Fitz felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through him down to his toes. It caused him to visibly start, earning more than one glance in his direction. He took an imperceptible step in Olivia's direction before breaking from his reverie. _Who is that girl?_ Fitz thought to himself. She was so delicate looking, with large, intelligent eyes and round cheekbones above frankly delicious-looking lips that she was biting as she wrote. To Fitz, it was as if she was glowing, her luminous skin shining across the room. Reluctantly he tore his gaze back to Mark. Fitz felt hot, his ears reddening, he suddenly felt a jolt of liquid desire burn through him. _Who is that girl?_ He asked himself. As Mark wrapped the meeting up Fitz spoke,

"Thanks, Mark. That was extremely…illuminating." He was horribly aware that he hadn't caught a single word of the briefing. He had never, not once in 20 years of marriage to Mellie, ever felt such an instant attraction to another woman. Fitz walked out of the briefing feeling more confused and conflicted than he had ever felt in his life.

Later that day the interns were ensconced in the room, Lauren had left a stack of files going back to the seventies detailing any previous reference to Tax reform. "Your job is to read these and look for any credible precedent that would help push the President's tax reforms through congress." Lauren had told them before disappearing back to her other, more exciting duties.

"I can't believe that I was in the same meeting as the President," Abbey said for the fifteenth time that day.

"I wonder why he was though," Quinn asked, "I mean everyone else seems as shocked as we were. He must not come to them that often."

"There was something weird about him," Huck muttered, "he was there but he wasn't paying attention, he was distracted by something," Huck shot Olivia a covert glance. He could see she was completely oblivious to the reaction the president had had when he first looked at her but Huck had noticed the pulse jumping in his neck, the blush that crept over his neck and ears. He wasn't the only one. Huck had clocked the glance that Jake had shot Olivia when the President had startled the first time he looked in her direction. There was something about Jake that Huck just couldn't put his finger on. Sometimes when he thought no one was looking Huck saw his eyes harden, lose the charming sparkle and his face took on an altogether more threatening countenance.

No one was listening to Huck however, Quinn, Abbey and Harrison had their heads together, talking over one of the files, Olivia was deep in thought working on another. Charlie and Jake were both sat alone working on other files.

"Guys, I'm gonna go do a coffee run, anyone want anything?" Harrison asked.

I'll have a Mocha," Olivia called out.

"Cappuccino," Abbey said, "me too," echoed Quinn.

"Nah, I'm good," said Huck

"No, thanks," Jake shouted.

Charlie didn't even look up.

"You want a hand?" Olivia looked up.

"Yeah thanks, Liv," Harrison held the door open for her and they headed down to the canteen.

The next week Olivia found herself once again working late. The other interns had called it a day two hours ago. The corridors were empty and the west wing had an after-hours feel. The warm lighting and dark corners gave a deceptive air of cosiness. Olivia and Jake were the last two still working, it was dry and it was dull but Olivia was relentless in her focus.

"Olivia," Jake said, "I'm gonna call it a night. You should go home too, we've gotta be back here in 10 hours."

"Not yet, I want to finish this document. You go, I'll be fine." She looked up at him, "I'll see you tomorrow." She nodded at him as if to make her point.

"Alright, night Liv." Jake grabbed his satchel and his coat and headed out the door.

Olivia sat back after he had left. She looked around the empty room, soaking it in. Even now, half way through her internship, she could scarcely believe her good fortune in being allowed to come to work here. This was where she belonged.

"Miss Pope?" She was brought out of her reverie suddenly, a woman she vaguely recognised from the Deputy Chief of Staff's office had opened the door.

"Yes," Olivia replied.

"Your presence has been requested in the Oval Office."

"Um, I'm sorry?" Olivia was confused.

"Your presence has been requested in the Oval Office."

"Oh, no. That can't be right. I'm _Olivia_ Pope, I'm an intern here. It must be another Miss Pope you're looking for." She looked back down at her document and carried on reading.

"That's right, Miss Olivia Pope. You need to come with me. Now," she added when it became clear Olivia wasn't going to move.

Olivia got up slowly, _this is going to be really embarrassing, I'm going to walk into some meeting and everyone is going to look at me like what the heck are you doing? God, I am going to die of embarrassment._ "Really, Miss, I don't know anything, I do grunt work, research. There's no way I am the person you're looking for. Unless, am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?" Olivia was beginning to truly panic now. What if she had broken some rule and she was about the get fired?

"I was simply told to find the intern Miss Pope in the Jefferson Meeting room and bring her to the Oval. I don't know why your presence has been requested. Now please, follow me."

Olivia followed her down the corridors to the lobby of the Oval.

"Miss Pope," the woman said to the Oval secretary, Mrs Hanley.

"Miss Pope is here," Mrs Hanley announced on the intercom.

"Send her in," a smooth baritone replied.

"President Grant will see you now," Mrs Hanley relayed.

Before Olivia could question whose voice she had just heard, the door to the Oval had opened and she found herself walking in.

The room appeared to be empty as she walked into the centre of the two plush sofas facing each other. The sound of the door closing behind her made her turn around.

Olivia inhaled sharply. There, next to the door was President Grant.

The most powerful man in the world.

"Miss Pope. Thank you for coming. Please, take a seat." President Grant smiled at her and gestured for her to sit on the sofa behind her. "Can I get you something to drink?" President Grant asked her in his measured baritone. Olivia shook her head. "Scotch?" President Grant smiled at her, teasing. "A vodka-tonic perhaps?"

"No, no thank you, Sir."

"Please, Olivia. I hate to drink alone."

"Vodka-tonic would be fine, thank you, Sir," Oliva spoke softly.

Fitz felt his balls tighten a little as she said _Sir_.

President Grant poured her vodka-tonic and a scotch for himself. He handed her the drink which she took and sat himself down opposite her. He sat back with his legs crossed and gave her an appraising look whilst he took a sip of his drink.

"So, how have you been finding your time here? Is the work interesting?" Olivia nodded.

"Yes, it's wonderful. I'm learning a lot," she nodded as she spoke.

"And what do you want to do after you graduate, Miss Pope?

"Sir?" Olivia couldn't really believe what she was hearing. The president wanted to speak to her? It didn't make any sense.

"Tell me about yourself." Fitz was hoping that speaking to her and hearing the mundane details of her life would make him feel less fascinated. Would somehow reduce her in his eyes. "Who is Olivia Pope?"

"Well – Um, there's not much to tell. I go to Georgetown, I'm a sophomore there. I major in Political Science." Olivia felt exposed. She felt uncomfortable, what did it mean when the President of the United States suddenly felt compelled to make small talk with you? She looked at the door, suddenly feeling as though she had put herself in a vulnerable position. What if someone came in and saw her alone with him, drinking? She'd be fired.

"Do you live nearby?"

"Nearby? Um, no I live in Brentwood. I rent an apartment out there." _If you could call that crappy room over the Chinese an apartment_ she thought to herself.

"Brentwood?" Olivia looked up sharply at him, hearing the judgement in his voice. "That's a long way from DC. Are you going back there tonight?"

"Of course," Olivia smiled, "where else would I be staying?" Olivia looked him in the eyes for the first time. She knew it was a rough neighbourhood, she didn't need someone whose life had been bathed in privilege to tell her that.

"President Grant, Sir, I'm sorry but I really think I should go, I shouldn't be here. This has all been a mistake." Olivia began to stand up and look for a place to put her drink.

"Don't go, Olivia," President Grant could sense her ire and he suddenly felt like it was the most important thing in the world that she not leave, not yet. "You're a sophomore? How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen, Sir."

"Nineteen?" President Grant took a long sip of his Scotch. "God," he muttered to himself, then more loudly to Olivia he continued, "and you live out in Brentwood?" He checked his watch. "It's very late for a woman to be out on the metro alone. You should be careful, there are a lot of bad guys out there. You could find yourself in some serious danger."

 _No more so than I am now_ Oliva thought to herself, a smile playing on her lips as she took a drink.

"It's not so bad, I'm used to it." Olivia took another sip, unsure where this was going.

For some reason Fitz felt a pang of concern for this girl, this young woman. Despite her confidence she had a fragility he couldn't place.

Olivia sat on the sofa, looking down at her lap. When President Grant didn't speak she looked up and saw him looking intently at her, as though he was trying to solve a cryptic puzzle. _Nineteen! She's a child, you're old enough to be her father. You're too old for her, too shop-soiled. You're married. She deserves more, she deserves someone who is free to love her…_ Fitz's inner monologue delivered stern lecture on the inadvisability of his current course of action. This young woman, on the cusp of adulthood didn't need him with all his baggage, weighing her down.

"I'm sorry, Olivia, I shouldn't have asked you to come here tonight. It was wrong of me. You're doing a great job, enjoy the rest of your time at the White House." He stood and drained his drink. "Now go home, get some sleep! And be careful out there." He turned as though to signify that she should leave.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Miss Pope. Like I said, you should go home." President Grant walked towards his desk and began to read a dossier on there.

Olivia got up slowly and placed her still full glass on the side table. She felt a sudden urge to cry. She turned and walked to the door, fighting the pricking sensation in her eyes. She put her hand on the door. "Goodnight, Mr President," she said without turning around. Then she opened the door and walked out.

He couldn't get her out of his mind. That day when he had walked into the Chief of Staff's daily briefing and he saw her for the first time, the jolt he had felt, it had woken him up. The world was suddenly in colour, for the first time ever. As if the scales had fallen from his eyes and he suddenly saw his choice to remain in his marriage as the lifeless lie that it was. This glorious girl with delicious pink lips coloured like some exotic flower, wide, dark eyes and smooth, brown skin. She was utterly delectable, he had never seen someone so captivating, someone that he felt so compelled to speak to. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since that day. He felt constantly on edge, like he had a raw nerve. He caught himself straining to overhear if the secretaries mentioned her name and trying to make excuses to go to another meeting. Fitzgerald Grant thought of himself as a good man, he had never strayed outside the vows he made on his wedding day. He had never sought to comfort himself in the arms of another, unlike Mellie who had had numerous affairs. They had come to an unspoken understanding whereby she was discrete and he didn't care. He had thrown himself into his work, Pilot, Governor, Candidate. President. It had always been enough. Until now.

This past week he had imagined himself kissing her, kissing those lips, feeling her tongue in his mouth. Imagined his lips running over her skin, over her breasts. He imagined himself sucking her breasts, sucking her dark nipples into his mouth, would they be small or large? He had nothing to compare her to, she was so unlike the skinny waspish girls of his youth, and nothing like his cold wife, Mellie. He imagined her naked, spread out before him while he licked her swollen, wet little pussy… _Jesus, Fitz! Enough!_

She was nineteen. She was an intern. And he was a dirty old man. With a heavy sigh he finished his drink, and left the Oval.

Olivia had cried herself to sleep that night. Nothing had happened but she felt as though she had lost something precious. The next day she awoke, tired but with resolved focus. She was going to be the best damn intern the White House had ever had.

At 10am she found herself in the daily briefing. The room was busier than usual and she was pressed against the wall near the back. The meeting was running late, she caught Abbey's eye across the room and rolled her eyes, smiling.

Suddenly the door burst open and in strode President Grant. Everyone stood to attention.

"Please, sit down. Pretend I'm not here." Fitz said to the deputy chief of staff, Mark, who suddenly looked a peculiar colour. The President was not in the habit of attending daily briefings and now this was twice in one week. He suddenly felt ill prepared.

"Which brings us to our last order of business, the research into the tax reform bill legal precedents. Lauren, can you give us a status update on the research?"

"Sure, we have some good news, we have found at least five solid legal precedents for amending tax banding. The interns have done a great job."

Fitz looked over to Olivia and caught her eye. She blushed and looked down quickly. After a beat she looked back up and was horrified to see Fitz still staring directly at her. He smiled. He seemed completely oblivious to the side-eyed incredulous looks he was drawing. She widened her eyes at him but he simply gave an imperceptible shake of his head, quirked his eyebrows and maintained his gaze. "I'd like to hear from one of these interns," his booming voice cut through the thick silence that had settled on the room. "Miss Pope, perhaps you'd care to elaborate?" He raised his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to respond.

For a moment, just for a moment, Olivia thought she might black out, run or cry or possibly some combination of all three. But she did none of these things. Instead, she squared her shoulders and replied, "1992, the Stackhouse Amendment. It's your best shot at establishing a legal precedent. It lays down a legal imperative, a constitutional imperative to make tax reforms in the public interest." She looked down as she finished, her shyness returning full force as she realised who her audience was.

"Thank you, Olivia." Fitz didn't even notice he'd called her by her first name, but it didn't go unnoticed anywhere else. Olivia felt her face grow hot as Abbey mouthed " _WTF?"_ at her. Fitz looked at The Deputy Chief of Staff who was taking the meeting, "Thanks, Mark, keep up the good work," he nodded at various other people in the room before turning to leave. He opened the door and then turned back to the room, "Oh, Miss Pope? Could I have a quick word with you?"

Almost every head in the room snapped back to look at Olivia, who felt a flush of heat blaze in her face.

"Of course, Mr President," she said, and she had to slowly pick her way across the crowded room to the door. Fitz just stood there waiting for her, looking around like this was perfectly normal. Perfectly normal for the President of the United States to ask an intern a question by name and then request a private meeting with her in front of almost the entire west wing staff. As she reached the door he stood back to let her through first, holding the door for her before he followed her out, closing the door behind him.

 **SCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDALSCANDAL**

"President Grant, I,"- Olivia began but she was cut off by Fitz. He stood close to her, almost leaning over her.

"Did you get home alright last night? I couldn't stop thinking about it." _Thinking about you._

"Yes, fine. Thank you." She looked up at him, a question in her eyes _You called me out of the meeting to ask me this?_

"Olivia, I'm sorry," Fitz met her gaze with kind eyes.

"Sorry, there's nothing- I mean you have nothing to apologise for, Sir." She looked over to the two secret service agents standing nearby whose eyes looking straight ahead before looking back to Fitz.

Fitz took a step closer to her, "I was rude to you last night, you didn't do anything wrong and I was rude to you. I just wanted to tell you that you didn't do anything wrong, that it was all on me," Fitz was talking fast and low, close to her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin. She shivered and took a step back, feeling the wall behind her.

"I hate the idea of you travelling so far by yourself late at night. It's not safe out there," Fitz was almost pressed up against her now, he was so tall she had to tilt her head to look at him.

"Sir, why would you care how I travel home? Like I said, I'm fine." Olivia felt very strongly that she couldn't still be standing here with the president when the meeting finished.

"Do you work late every night, Olivia?" Fitz ask, but before she could answer they heard talking from behind the closed door. The meeting obviously breaking up, Olivia looked at him with wide, worried eyes.

Fitz backed away, "until next time, Miss Pope," and began walking down the corridor.

Olivia leaned back on the wall behind and let out a long, trembling breath. _What the hell?!_

She walked away, in the opposite direction.

"What the hell was that?" Abbey demanded of Olivia the moment they got back to their room.

"Yeah, you never said you knew the President," Quinn said accusingly.

"Yeah, Liv. What's the deal? I thought you were one of us," Harrison snapped as they all stood around her.

"Leave her alone," Huck said to the others, but they ignored him.

Olivia stood facing the three other interns she had grown to consider her friends and felt a sudden rush of affection for Huck.

"I don't know him, I mean, I never met him or spoke to him before I started working here."

"So, you have spoken to him, since you started here?" Abbey quickly fired back at her.

"Yes…no, yes. Once, just one time he asked me to speak to him. In the Oval last night when I had stayed late." Olivia regretted saying it the moment the words were out of her mouth.

"I knew it, you've been looking down at me for being connected but you're just one of those girls," Abbey sneered at her.

Olivia felt her eyes begin to tear up and her lips were starting to tremble. "I didn't ask for any of this, I don't know why he wanted to speak to me, nothing happened. He asked me what my plans were after I graduate and told me to be careful going home on the metro. Nothing happened." Olivia felt so outraged that they would think she was like those other girls, those girls who wore tight sweaters with no bra and tried to find excuses to get near President Grant, just hoping he'd notice them.

"As fascinating as this little drama you've got happening here is, we have work to do so perhaps you could all continue this in your own time?" Charlie spoke in a level voice but it cut through the room and hit its mark.

Olivia moved away from the other interns, sat down and began working. Huck followed her and took a seat at her table. The others drifted over to a separate table where they proceeded to shoot Olivia jealous looks as they whispered amongst themselves. At 6pm they got up to leave. Olivia had heard them planning to go get pizza together but had kept her head down, refusing to look at them.

"Should we ask Olivia to come with us?" Quinn whispered, loud enough for Olivia to hear.

"No, she's probably going to be working here late again," Abbey said slyly.

"Hey, Huck, you coming?" Harrison called over.

"Nope," Huck said without looking up.

"Jake, Charlie, you in?" Harrison asked.

"Yeah, yeah, why not," Jake said as he and Charlie got up to leave. "Goodnight, Olivia. See you tomorrow," Jake said to her as he passed her table. Olivia smiled up at him.

After the door shut behind them, Olivia put her pen down and held her head in her hands. The tears that she had been holding back all day started to spill and as she sobbed Huck simply sat next to her, saying nothing. His solid presence lending her silent comfort.

The next night was Friday night. Olivia was working late again. Lauren had been at her all morning, and had given her a ridiculous work load as an unspoken punishment for being noticed by the President yesterday. Olivia felt as though she had done something wrong, even though she knew all she had done was speak to the President when he had asked her to. Everyone had continued to give her the cold shoulder today and when they left work earlier tonight not one of them asked her if she was coming out with them. Abbey hadn't looked her in the eye all day and Quinn, bubbly, lovely Quinn completely blanked her from the moment she had got there. Thank God, the President hadn't come to today's briefing. Olivia had spent the whole briefing saying a silent prayer that he wouldn't turn up. Olivia sighed, she hadn't asked for this, but now whenever she thought of the President, of the look he had given her in the briefing yesterday she felt herself grow hot, felt an unfamiliar throbbing between her legs. She knew part of the reason why she hadn't gone home yet tonight was because she was waiting, waiting to see if he would summon her to him again. She sighed, it was almost midnight. She'd have to think about heading home soon to her cold bed in that grim room she rented. She continued reading until a few moments later, "Miss Pope? Follow me, please."

Olivia grabbed her purse and followed the woman down the corridors to the Oval.

"He's expecting you, you can go on in," Mrs Hanley said to her.

Olivia walked into the Oval and saw Fitz seated at his desk.

Fitz picked up the phone, "That will be all, Mrs Hanley, you can go home now," and he looked at Olivia.

"Hi," Fitz smiled at her, that special smile with kind eyes he seemed to keep especially for her.

"Hi," Olivia replied.

"Sit down," Fitz said to her as he walked to the drinks tray and fixed her a Vodka tonic and himself a Scotch before handing it to her.

"Working late again?" Fitz asked her as he sat down next to her on the sofa, "shouldn't you be out in some bar right about now?" Fitz knew that for most staffers Friday night was the one where they let their hair down.

"Not tonight," Olivia smiled sadly, taking a long sip of her drink.

"Oh?" Fitz could see she was upset about something and it just tore him up to see her big eyes so downcast.

Olivia looked up at him, "The other interns, they, they think that we're, that I'm…with you to get ahead. They think I've been working late, hoping to get myself noticed. They think I'm one of those girls," tears began to roll down Olivia's face. "I worked so, so hard to get myself here and now…"

Fitz sat there, aghast. He hadn't thought about the consequences for Olivia when he noticed her that first time. He wasn't thinking about what the other staff would make of his interest in her when he called her out in the briefing yesterday.

"Olivia, I'm sorry. I should never have put you in this position," he said to her softly. "I just can't seem to stay away from you." He brushed her hair from her face and wiped her tears before pulling her against his chest and wrapping his big arms around her. "Do you want me to leave you alone? Have I been making you feel uncomfortable?" He looked down to see her peeping up at him.

"No, no it's the opposite of uncomfortable." Olivia whispered. "I feel so safe here," she paused, "with you." She buried her face against his chest again.

Fitz felt confused, he couldn't understand why he was so drawn to Olivia. Only that she was intelligent and brave and suddenly so, so precious to him. He couldn't imagine a world where she wasn't in his life, but it was clear that he couldn't continue to show her any obvious favouritism. Her career would be defined by her relationship with him. It wouldn't be fair to her if everyone thought she had slept her way to the top. "I'm so sorry, Olivia. I shouldn't have been so obvious. It won't happen again."

Olivia was confused by what Fitz meant. Did he mean he would end whatever _this_ was? She hoped not. It was impossible not to feel flattered that the most powerful man in the world wanted to get to know her but Olivia was well aware of her short comings. Why would he want someone as inexperienced as her in his life? Maybe this was his M.O? Maybe he liked to seduce the interns? Olivia hoped she was wrong. She felt a safety in his arms she'd never felt before.

"President Grant, I, I need to go home. It's late." Olivia pushed herself up.

Fitz let her get up and then picked up his phone. "Yeah, I'm gonna need a car at the staff entrance in 10. No, no. Ok." Fitz hung up and looked over to her, "You're not going home alone tonight, there's a car coming to take you in 10 minutes. It's not safe for you to travel alone." He walked towards her, stalking her. Olivia felt rooted to the spot. He got closer and closer to her. Fitz stood right in front of her, the differences in their height forcing her to look up at him. He put his hands on her waist and said, "I'm sorry the other interns were mean to you but I don't think I can stay away from you now I've found you." As he whispered the last word he leant down and ghosted his lips over hers, unsure how she would react. When she didn't try to move away he pressed his lips to hers. Olivia stood stock still as he deepened his kiss, his hands gripping her waist more forcefully, his tongue lapping against her closed lips. She sighed and as she let did Fitz slipped his tongue into her mouth. A moan escaped her and she moved her hands up to his back as Fitz slid his around to cup her ass.

"Mmmm, you need to go before I lay you out and fuck you on my desk," Fitz managed to say in between kisses.

Olivia felt a deep clench inside at his words, her pussy was throbbing and she felt almost powerless to stop. She could feel his erection pressing into her stomach and she felt a heady thrill pass through her at the physical evidence of his desire for her. If he wanted her she wasn't going to stop him, even if it meant losing her virginity in a quick fuck on his desk. She wanted him deeply, enough that the usual concerns that had always stopped her crossing that line in the past suddenly didn't matter. In his eyes, she felt like she lit the room.

Fitz reluctantly broke off their kiss, "you really need to go," he said. He pushed himself back and gave her a hot look. "I just can't seem to control myself around you," he said.

Olivia bit her lip and smiled, "I don't mind, Mr President," she said. She began to move to the door.

"Olivia," Fitz began, "I'll try to be more discrete, but I'm going to need to keep seeing you. We can't stop." He sounded so certain.

"No, we can't stop," was all Olivia said before she walked out of the door to the staff entrance.

Later, as Olivia sat in the nicest car she had ever been in, in her life, she smiled as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers. How his hands had felt around her waist, how she had felt him harden against her stomach. The car was only a couple of blocks from her apartment now. She leant forward, "You can just drop me here, I'll walk the rest of the way."

"My orders are to see you to your door, Ma'am," the driver called back to her.

Olivia almost felt embarrassed that the driver was going to see her crummy apartment. She hoped he wouldn't tell the president.

A/N: Apologies for posting this story out of order, I wrote this before Air Force One, which is probably chapter 4 or 5 of this story. Possibly more to follow? I've tried to throw in some Americanisms but, as a Brit, if I've dropped any clangers please do let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – A beautiful little fool.**

Fitz stood on the Presidential seal in an unseeing daze, looking at the door Olivia had exited through. His mind was racing. Fitz could still feel her tentative lips on his and the sexy, soft sound of her moaning into his mouth.

It was the same moment, over and over.

Her lips and then a soft, low moan.

When Fitz finallyemerged from his dazed stupor he fixed himself another drink and sat on the overstuffed couch, bent forward over his spread legs, as if bracing himself against the chaos of his mind. He felt so out of control, so unlike himself, he'd kissed an intern. He'd KISSED an intern. In the Oval. And propositioned her. And she'd kissed him back. What had possessed him to say those things to her?

 _I just can't seem to control myself around you_

Did he really say that?

 _I don't think I can stay away from you now I've found you._

How could he have been so reckless?

 _You need to go before I lay you out and fuck you on my desk._

Good God!

If anyone, if Mellie, or Cyrus or – heaven forbid – the press ever found out that he'd put his entire presidency, a lifetime's work at risk because of his inability to behave appropriately around this girl they'd…well, it wouldn't be good, for either of them.

Fitz looked at his Scotch with the air of a man contemplating the very depths of his soul rather than a 21-year-old, single malt. This God-damn liquor was older than her, for Christ's sake!

He'd had no intention, when he asked Mrs Hanley to find out if she was working late, to put either of them in so precarious a position. He'd intended to talk to her, to see how her week had gone. Maybe to see her smile. He wasn't kidding when he said he couldn't seem to stay away from her. But then she'd cried and he'd seen the brave face she'd put on crumble before him, seen the stress his attention had brought upon her. That crucial moment, _I feel so safe here, with you. S_ he'd whispered it against his chest and he was suddenly struck by how vulnerable she seemed, how fragile and precious. As if his heart suddenly existed outside himself and resided within this glorious girl and how he wanted to spirit her away from all the ills of the world, somewhere he could protect her _._

 _But then_ , he thought to himself, _maybe it's me she needs protecting from._

And therein lay the problem, how could he conduct himself with any sense of integrity when he was making sexual advances on a 19-year-old intern? That night Fitz sat looking at his drink for a long time, before admitting to himself that he'd crossed a line, a line that, until now, had separated him from every other sleazy politician who'd ever been caught up in a DC sex scandal. That he was nothing more than a clichéd middle-aged philanderer. And yet, when he remembered the sounds she'd made and the taste of her on his tongue, he felt something in his soul elevate.

Was this lust?

Was this why men did it?

It didn't feel wrong or sleazy, it felt… _imperative_ , that Olivia be his, that they be together. He needed her in his life but he knew that to do so risked everything that he'd ever worked for. That to be with Olivia would never look like anything other than an older, powerful man manipulating a young woman, overwhelming her. Exploiting her. And, if he was honest with himself, he couldn't truthfully say if that wasn't the case anyway. That was really the crux of the whole matter.

He'd told her that they couldn't stop. That he had to keep seeing her. But he realised the exact opposite was true. He had to put an end to it before he destroyed them both. No matter what he might be feeling it wasn't worth risking her future for. He had to leave her alone and forget about her.

Fitz felt his mind begin to calm. This was it, this was what he had to do.

He knew that now.

It was this train of thought that gave Fitz the impetuous set down his untouched Scotch and return to the Residence and finally, to sleep.

xXx

The next day Olivia decided to spend her weekend just relaxing at home. After a day spent doing laundry at the launderette down the road and tidying up, she got some popcorn, a bottle of wine and put on her comfiest PJs. She put on a film she had been saving for a quiet night in on her DVR and did her nails.

But all the while she was thinking of the President.

Wondering when she would next see him.

Would he kiss her again?

Would he keep his promise of being discrete?

She found herself hoping that he wouldn't be too careful, but maybe he had said that partly for his own benefit more than her own? He was married after all.

Suddenly Olivia's mood took a nose dive. She'd fallen in love with a married man. He wasn't available and she didn't want to be a home wrecker. She felt so conflicted. She couldn't quite summon any genuine guilt about flirting with the President, not even about kissing him, despite the wedding ring on his finger. Olivia spent the weekend feeling miserable about her lack of morals and drinking more cheap Merlot than was good for her. She only knew that he smelled like home and she wanted him to wrap his strong arms around her and never let go.

By the time Monday morning rolled around Olivia had come to an understanding with herself. Two days of solid, isolated introspection had helped her to realise the truth.

She was in love with President Grant.

On a rational level she knew it was foolish to have fallen so fast and hard for a man who was almost completely unavailable in every way. That just because her insides liquified every time she remembered him kissing her, or that because she felt so safe in his arms, it didn't mean she was important to him. How could she be? She was no-one special. There was no reason on this Earth why a man as important and powerful as Fitzgerald Grant III should find her remarkable.

For all she knew President Grant had a steady stream of interns and assistants and God knows who else running through the Oval.

Deep down, Olivia didn't think that Fitz would ever exploit her in such a callous way. She didn't believe that what they shared was some tawdry power game. But, if that was all was on offer then it would be enough. Whatever he wanted to give her, it would be enough.

Because the one thing that Olivia knew for sure was that she was a woman in love, with a incredible man.

Is someone else who found themselves contemplating a devastating love affair with the leader of the free world would have asked her what she thought she would have asked them, a _re you out of your damn mind?_ Because, really, what kind of fool would she be if she let herself lose everything she'd worked so hard for? The life she wanted was so nearly within reach. If she could forget about President Grant and keep her head down and work hard she could have the life she'd always wanted.

For a moment she allowed herself to really feel the pain of imagining her life stretching on ahead without President Grant's kind, crinkly eyes and crooked smile. Without that sense of _absolute_ security she felt whenever he was near. She heard a small voice in her head that whispered,

 _We can't stop._

"Pass?"

"I'm sorry?" Olivia's mind was miles away, in the arms of Fitzgerald Grant.

"I need to see your pass, ma'am," the guard in the booth repeated.

Somehow Olivia had managed her entire commute without noticing. She handed her intern badge to the man on the gate. "Olivia Pope," she smiled as she had done every day of her internship.

The guard swiped her pass and waved her through.

xXx

Oliva stood in the Deputy Chief of Staff's office along with Lauren Romano, the various departmental heads, their senior assistants and her fellow interns. Mark Walsh, Deputy to Chief of Staff Cyrus Beene, was going to be running the trade negotiations with China next year and so was heavily involved in the preliminary talks that would be taking place next month.

"Lauren, I need background on the key players in the Chinese government involved with these talks," Mark reeled off the names of the key players and, as Lauren nodded, Olivia and her fellow interns were furiously scribing notes on exactly what Mark needed.

The briefing done, Lauren and the interns returned to the meeting room they had been using for research.

Lauren stood in front of the group, "I don't need to tell you how important it is that we have a thorough and precise understanding of the people we will be dealing with when we get to China," Lauren began. "The success of the talks next year will be decided by the people involved and we need to be as prepared as possible. So, Charlie and Jake, I want you to focus on the senior economic advisor, He Lui, Harrison, Abby and Olivia you are going to look at the Minister of Commerce. Gao Hucheng and his aides and Huck and Quinn you will look at Yang Yi and his team at the FECC. Anything you think might be useful in giving President Grant an edge next month."

The air in the room felt thick with inertia. Lauren looked from face to face. Clearly there was _something_ unresolved between the interns, "Ok, whatever _this_ is," she gestured vaguely from person to person, "you need to get over it. Yesterday! There is no room in the West Wing for personal grievances. If you find yourself unable to conduct yourself in a professional manner," Abbey snorted at this, "In a professional manner," Lauren continued, shooting Abbey a glare, "then your time on this programme will be at an end. Do I make myself clear?" She asked the room at large.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harrison volleyed back.

Variously the other interns answered in the affirmative, Abbey last of all.

After Lauren had departed Olivia decided this was the moment she'd been waiting for. If she was really going to do this, be in love with President Grant, she had to kill the rumours before they started. It was the only way that they'd ever get a chance at happiness. She had to face this thing head on. She turned to Abbey and Harrison. "How do you want to do this?" She asked. "Do you want to work as a group or divide it up?"

Abbey gave Olivia a look of sheer loathing and turned her back on her, "Do you hear something?" She asked Harrison.

Charlie, Jake, Huck and Quinn stood watching, their faces tracking from Olivia to Abbey then from Abbey to Olivia. Their tit for tat volley so fascinating they didn't even try to pretend they weren't watching.

Olivia walked around so that she was facing Abbey. "Do you have a problem?" She asked.

Abbey just snorted and looked away.

"I said," Olivia repeated, "do you have a problem?"

"Yes," Abbey snapped back. "I do. I have a problem working with someone who isn't serious about politics, someone who uses her body instead of her mind to get ahead."

Olivia gasped a little at this.

"Its women like you that hold us all back." Abbey spat out at her.

"Let me be very clear," Olivia straightened her spine, held her head up high. "I have done nothing to be ashamed of," it was a lie, but it didn't feel like a lie. "You don't know what you're talking about," this at least was true. "I am deadly serious about politics, and I will not let you, or anybody else dictate how I conduct myself in any professional capacity. Now tell me how you want to work this, or you can go to Lauren and tell her that you are leaving the programme. Because I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere!" Olivia's small frame was quivering with the force of her conviction; her chest was heaving as she caught her breath. She'd heard the lies come out of her mouth but somehow, _somehow_ , it still felt like the truth. It still felt like her.

Nobody in the room made a sound. You could have heard a pin drop.

Abbey thinned her lips a little at this and cocked her head. She gave Olivia a searching look. "Well, Ok then. Let's get to work."

And as one the other interns breathed out and began their research.

xXx

Olivia was careful not to stay late alone that night. She made sure she left at the same time as everyone else, even if, really, she would have liked to stay and hash out some more of the background of the aide she was covering.

 _Liar_ said that treacherous voice at the back of her mind.

Ok, so even if, really, she would have liked to stay and be summoned to the Oval and into his arms.

Walking out of the building that evening without seeing him, hearing his voice. Feeling his arms around her, his breath on her face, was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Olivia made sure she was seen swiping out before heading home.

"Olivia!" Huck shouted out to her, running after her as she strode to the metro.

Olivia stopped and turned around. She smiled, she liked Huck.

"You did real good today, with Abbey and the others. She won't bother you anymore." Huck spoke to her while looking at the ground slightly to the left of her shoes.

"Thanks, Huck," Olivia said. "You wanna go get something to eat? There's a good noodle bar on the way to the metro, if you have time?" She didn't want to be alone right now. She felt so bereft. How would she ever manage to spend time with President Grant again?

"I like noodles," Huck replied. Olivia took this to mean he did want to go eat and the two of them began to walk along.

They grabbed a table in the window of the restaurant. It was one of those all-night noodle bars that had zero ambiance with tables and chairs fixed to the floor. They sat down with their food and began to eat in a companionable silence. One of the things Olivia found so soothing about Huck was that he didn't demand conversation. She felt her mind drift back to last night. Her stomach flipped over when she recalled the things President Grant had said to her.

 _You need to go before I lay you out and fuck you on my desk._

Her mind flashed to images of her kissing him while he walked her back her to his desk and picked her up so she sat on it. She imagined him standing in between her spread legs, kissing her while his hands ran up her thighs, under her skirt, between her legs.

 _Yes, Mr President._

"They won't bother you about it again now," Huck stated to the table, apparently just picking up their earlier conversation where they had left off.

"Oh?" was all Olivia could manage while she mentally changed gears.

"But you might need to be more careful about who you tell." Huck paused and looked Olivia dead in the eye, "about your late-night visits to The Oval."

Olivia felt herself flushing. She smiled and shook her head.

"It's not what you think. Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. I'm not that girl. I may have let myself get distracted but…Nothing happened." She almost believed it herself.

Huck didn't react to this, he merely sat and finished his ramen.

xXx

Disappointment was not a feeling Fitz had had much experience with, so he didn't immediately recognise what the heavy feeling of wasted potential that lay on his shoulders was that evening.

Despite his resolve not to see Olivia again he'd spent all day thinking about her. He'd had to force himself not to crowd Olivia, not to go the daily briefing. He'd deliberately kept himself occupied in meetings all day.

He'd had a particularly unpleasant half hour with the new British ambassador, Sir Rupert Trevellyan. He was an odious man with a terrible reputation for lechery. Fitz had had to bite his tongue on more than one occasion. The comments he made about some of the women working in the White House were appalling.

The arrogance of some British diplomats really pissed him off. Fitz could tell immediately that this guy thought he was the superior of every single person in the room just because his Great, Great Grandfather had had ties with some branch of the British royal family 100 years ago. Well, so what? Fitz's family went all the way back to the 1800's, and they had more money than this little prick would ever see in his lifetime.

Fitz had felt his fists twitch when Sir Trevellyan had made that crack about Mark Walsh's PA when she brought him the papers needed to verify Trevellyan's diplomatic credentials. "That," he'd pointed at Tina, "is a world class bit of totty," he opined, _sotto voce._ Fitz knew that Tina had heard it, and worse, seen him smile and nod in response. He wasn't sure what he hated more, Tina thinking he was complicit in this guy's assholery or having to pander to his misogyny in the name of diplomacy.

What a fucked-up world it was.

The idea of Tina being reduced to a world class bit of totty was infuriating. She was fantastic at her job. She had a masters from Cornell for Christ's sake! It really was a man's world, Fitz thought. And his recent behaviour toward Olivia was hardly a ringing endorsement of the women's lib movement.

 _What a God-damn mess,_ Fitz thought to himself.

He'd finished all his paperwork for the evening. There was just one dossier left on his desk. Fitz poured himself a generous Scotch, picked up the dossier and sat back on the sofa. An intelligence report indicating that there was an increase in chatter on the dark web. There was the suggestion that this might be a pre-indicator of a major financial services hack.

 _Perfect._

Fitz felt the Scotch begin to soften his focus, taking the edge off.

He continued to read;

 **It is therefore recommended that additional security measures are taken to limit your exposure to risk.**

Fitz allowed himself a wry smile. _That's good advice,_ he thought to himself.

xXx

Two hours later, Fitz lay in his bed, a half empty glass of Scotch on the bedside table.

Mellie was away in Connecticut, officially at a fundraiser for her children's vaccination programme but really, Fitz knew, she was spending a few nights with one of her many lovers. He didn't know which one. Fitz knew it should bother him a lot more than it did, but honestly, it was a relief not to have to make small talk and put on a show for the household staff. They hadn't shared a bed for years but somehow, just knowing she was there in the next room always set his teeth on edge.

Fitz fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning. He began to dream that he was searching for something, frantically running from room to room, looking for something. There were people everywhere in the house. But it wasn't the residence, it was the West Wing. And the people were working but they were like statues, neither moving nor talking. He could hear a rough buzzing sound like some sort of interference filling his ears. He ran from person to person shaking them by the shoulders and trying to shout _Where is she? Where is she_?But his mouth was glued shut so his voice sounded all muffled. Nobody moved or reacted to him at all.

No one could help him find her.

And then suddenly, in the next room was Olivia. She stood looking out of the window with her back to him but he knew it was her. There was an aura of sunlight silhouetting her body. She turned around and smiled. A feeling of calm rolled over Fitz. The buzzing stopped and as he moved closer he heard her sigh,

 _Fitz. Fitz._

And, although he didn't speak in the dream, he heard himself whisper her name.

 _Olivia._

He woke up with her name echoing inside his skull, as though someone had screamed it into his ear. His clock showed it was 4:36am. Fitz lay back down and tried to calm himself enough to sleep.

He needed to see Olivia, to smell her, to hold her in his arms. How could he just let her slip through his fingers _?_ _But her future, her reputation_ …The same arguments that had made so much sense the night before seemed so irrelevant now. How was it possible to walk away from this? When he was so close to real happiness. Staying away from Olivia Pope was going to be much harder than he thought.

It was going to be a long week.

xXx

Tuesday morning dawned with the ringing of her alarm. And two hours later her morning routine deposited her at her desk.

Olivia had got to work before everyone else. She sat, working on her Chinese personnel research as they began to arrive. First, Charlie. A smile and a nod from him. Then Jake,

"Morning, Olivia, Charlie. Good Weekend?" He asked Olivia.

"Yeah, really good thanks," Olivia's mind flashed back to her weekend holed up in her horrible apartment, drinking all that wine and feeling utterly wretched. "How about you?"

"Just a few beers with the guys, you know?" Jake smiled at her.

"Yeah." _No._

As they chatted the other came in. Huck, always quiet, came and sat next to her. As he did the other three came in, talking loudly about what had happened at the bar they went to on Friday night.

"You are such a man-whore!" Quinn laughed at Harrison who just laughed back. Neither of them acknowledged the others in the room.

"Morning, Olivia," Abbey said as she came in behind them.

"Hey, Abbey," Olivia replied.

Harrison walked over and stood between them. "Now, that's more like it," he put his arms around each of their shoulders. "The band is back together!" Everyone laughed, even Charlie and Jake. The shitty atmosphere of last week had been bad for everyone.

Olivia felt the lie flickering behind her eyes but willed herself not to show it.

"How you guys getting on with Commerce?" Charlie asked.

"Not bad, we have a couple of angles that look promising. Gao has a daughter about the same age of the First Daughter. He collects ceramics. There are a few things that might be useful. How about you guys?" Harrison asked him.

Before Charlie could reply Lauren came in. "That's good to hear. You can carry on with this today and tomorrow then we'll meet Mark and debrief on your findings. Please make sure you have a written report and summary emailed to me before the end of Wednesday. Also, in case you had forgotten. Your final rotation begins on Monday. You will be spending your final three weeks based with the Communications Directors Office. You need to have your application for your final assignment in by that first Friday. You can put your choices in priority order but be aware that only two of you will be successful in your application to work in this department. Decisions are final and not up for appeal. Assignments are made at our discretion and are not subject to external scrutiny. Ok, disclaimer over. I'll leave you to get on with your research." Lauren swept back out of the room as suddenly as she had entered it.

"You guys!" Quinn bounced over to Olivia's group. "So, what's your top choice?"

"Chief of Staff's office, obviously," Harrison said.

"Yeah, I mean, it's got to be. And Press for me. My top two." Added Abbey.

Olivia sensed that this was a test of sorts. "Well, I loved Press rotation. Admin not so much. And who knows what Comms will be like. I'll probably go Press then Chief of Staff." Olivia felt her heart break a little as she said it, of course she wanted to be as close to President Grant as possible but if she said this was her first choice they'd think it was because she was after the President.

 _But you are_ whispered that treacherous voice in her head.

"Really?" said Quinn. "I would've thought you'd want to be here more than anyone," she added.

"Quit it Quinn!" said Harrison

"I just meant 'cause it's so frickin' cool here, that's all." Quinn backpedalled.

"Nope, I mean I wouldn't say no but I think I'd be better in the Press department. Or Comms. You never know what that's going to be like."

"I could see you in Press," Abbey agreed.

"Yeah." Olivia said.

"Press."

From across the room Huck gave her a sideways look.

xXx

Somehow Olivia made it through to Wednesday evening. She felt like she was slowly drowning. Her thoughts keep circling back to the moment President Grant had kissed her, his voice and his hands on her waist. She wanted him. She wanted him to hold her, to stroke her hair. She wanted to look into his eyes. She wanted to sit on that sofa in the Oval with him while he made her a drink and asked her about her day. She wanted him to see him smile that special smile that made his eyes crinkle and soften. She was mentally exhausted, constantly having to refocus her attention on the task at hand. Having finished the bulk of her research, Olivia had just finished writing up her report. Most of the others had already left, it was just her and Jake left. She had wanted to check over her report one last time.

"You nearly done?" Jake asked her.

"Yeah, almost. You?"

"Yeah. You wanna get out of here and grab some dinner when you're done?"

Olivia's mind went blank for a moment. She couldn't think of a reason to say no, "Um, er, why not?"

 _Damn!_ She said to herself.

"Great, I know a place that does great Dim Sum."

"Great," Olivia gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

An hour later they were on their way out. Jake took her to a small shop a few streets away with a pink neon sign flashing 'Dumpling' in the window.

"Best Dim Sum in DC," Jake promised her, ushering her inside. Inside the building was bigger than it had appeared from outside.

"This place is like a Tardis, I know," Jake said.

Olivia smiled, thinking to herself, _a what?_

They sat on a small table tucked into an alcove and ordered their food. When it came Olivia realised she was starving and began to eat with gusto.

"These are really good," she enthused to Jake.

"Yeah, I told you. It's the best in DC. So you're at Georgetown? What's your major?"

"Poli-sci. I always dreamed of working at the White House," Olivia said.

"Well you've clearly made a big impression," Jake smiled as Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"What do you mean?" She knew exactly what he meant.

"Well," Jake smiled, "you know, with President Grant. I thought Lauren's eyes were going to pop out of her head when he called on you in that briefing." He leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off Olivia. "And then when he asked to speak to you outside, I mean every person in that room was wondering what the hell was going on!"

Olivia looked down and smiled. "Yeah," she agreed. "I would never have expected to even see him. That was really weird, right?" She looked him in the eyes.

"Really weird," Jake echoed. "Right." He didn't sound like he really agreed with her.

Olivia began to feel a needling sense of unease.

"I, I need to go or I'll miss my train. How much do I owe you?" She began to get her purse from under the table.

"No, no. I asked you. This is my treat, you can get the next one," as if there hadn't been any malice at all.

Later, on the train back to Brentwood, Olivia wondered if it had all been in her head. She shivered a little, despite the warmth of the car.

Because, the truth was, she knew it hadn't.

xXx

Only two more days.

Only two more days where she might see him.

Almost a whole week of thinking about President Grant without actually seeing him had made her feel edgy and desperate.

Why hadn't he tried to see her? He must know that it had to be him seeing her. She could hardly ask for access to the President!

Did she dare to stay late tonight? She wasn't going to get her final placement in the chief of staff's office. She'd already told the others that she wasn't going to apply for it as her top choice. It was unlikely that the President would cross her path in Comms or Press. Would he come to the briefing today? She found herself hoping that he would. She didn't even care if he drew attention to her. In fact, she wanted him to. She just wanted him to see her and to be close to her, even if it meant that none of the others spoke to her ever again.

At 10:30 am they assembled, Mark Walsh stood at the front of the room, ready to lead the meeting. Cyrus Beene stood to his side. Olivia felt a rush. He was going to come, she just knew it. The room seemed to be humming with electricity, her heart was pounding.

Mark Walsh help up his hands to quieten the room, "Morning, everyone."

And began the meeting.

Olivia didn't hear a word of it. Her eyes darting from door to door. Which way would he come in? He had to be close, the meeting would be over in 10 minutes.

"OK. Final order of business. The reports on the trade meetings. I…"

The doors swung open.

Olivia's vision blurred.

 _Finally!_

And in walked President Grant, closely followed by The First Lady, Millicent 'Mellie' Grant in a royal blue skirt and jacket, with her hair perfectly coiffed, in heels so high she was nearly the same height as her husband.

Everyone in the room straightened up as Mark fell silent. Olivia thought she might pass out, disappointment and panic sweeping through her like a wildfire.

 _Not again_ , thought Mark.

The First Lady began to speak, "Good Morning, everyone. I just wanted to drop in before I have to leave, again. My wonderful husband has been telling me how hard everyone has been working for his visit to China and I just wanted to come and tell you what a great job you've all been doing. My husband and I, well, we sincerely appreciate all your efforts."

Olivia's eyes were on Fitz as Mellie waxed lyrical on the qualities of the White House staff. He was stood next to Mellie, looking at her with a tight smile on his face.

 _Look at me, please._

 _Please look at me._

 _Please._

 _I need you._

 _Fitz._

Olivia was shouting at him in her mind and as she said his name in her head his face turned, slightly. A small movement and his eyes flicked up to meet hers. For an instant. Just an instant before they snapped back to Mellie.

To her absolute horror, Olivia felt her eyes begin to well up. Who was he right now? Standing there, with his hard eyes, letting his wife speak for him?

 _I've been such a fool_ she thought to herself.

"Thank you, Madam First Lady," Cyrus spoke up as Mellie finished her speech. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say you'll be missed for the next fortnight. But we wish you all the best with the launch of your vaccination programme on the west coast." Cyrus began to clap, and the staff quickly followed suit.  
"Why, thank you, Cyrus. Well, I need to go and pack, so if you'll excuse me," she said to the room at large. Fitz opened the door for her as she turned to go. "Thanks, honey," he said, "I just want to catch the end of this. I'll be over in 10."

"Sure, Hun," Mellie smiled brightly one last time and walked out.

"Please," Fitz said to Mark, "Carry on." He looked out at the staff assembled, trying to avoid looking directly at Olivia. He could see her wide eyes just staring at him in his peripheral vision. 

_Wait._

 _Was she crying?_

 _Shit._

"Ok. Ok. So. Final order of business, and it's actually quite fortuitous that you were able be here for this. The interns," several pairs of eyes in the room sought out Olivia, curious about what they were about to see. Mark Continued, "were about to debrief on the best angles to take with the commerce team meeting us in China. Lauren," Mark handed over to her.

"Thanks, Mark. Based on available intel we believe that your best avenues to build rapport will be with He Lui and Yang Yi. Both are happily married, family men and both are avid golfers. However, they haven't been able to indulge much lately because of the ban imposed by the communist party on its members. So, we thought an invitation to the US and the offer of a few rounds on the links might well help to ease relations."

"Oh good," laughed Fitz, "another round of golf. Just what I needed."

A murmur of laughter went round the room.

"And who do we have to thank for this strategy?" Fitz asked. This was why he'd come here today.

 _Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her._

 _Not her._

A silent plea to the Gods.

"I think it was…" Lauren began, looking at her team for an answer.

"Me, Sir."

 _Thank you, God._

Fitz turned on the full force of his charm. "Thank you for your efforts -?"

"Quinn, Sir. Quinn Perkins." Quinn was practically vibrating with excitement. She was talking to the President! She was going to dine out on this for the rest of her life.

"Perkins. Any relation to David Perkins in State?" Fitz was talking to her like she was the only person in the room.

"He's my Dad," Quinn confirmed happily.

"Well, he must be very proud," Fitz said, sincerely. "That's good work, all of you," he managed to look at everyone apart from Olivia. "If you'll excuse me."

Involuntarily his eyes flicked back to Olivia, he could see the hurt in her face.

See she didn't understand.

He kept his resolve, looked through her and clenched his jaw before turning and walking out, followed by his detail.

Bang.

The doors clattered closed and with them, Olivia's heart.

 **A/N: So, Fitz is trying to be noble and do the right thing. I have a feeling he's not going to be able to last much longer. And with Mellie out in California for two weeks, he'll be all alone in the residence…**

 **Thank you to everyone who took the time to review chapter one, the good, the bad and the ugly. All I can say to the readers with #Metoo concerns is that I hear you. And to the reader who suggested I look up JFK's 19 year old intern, I did and I found it absolutely fascinating, so thank you for pointing me in the direction of the story. I had no idea there used to be an indoor pool in the White House.**

 **P.S. I know she's Melody. But I see her as more of a Millicent.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – The Loneliest Moment**

Somehow, Fitz managed to stride back to the Oval. As he walked past Mrs Hanley's desk he paused and said, "Clear my schedule for the next 30 minutes. I don't want to be disturbed."

"Of course, Sir. You remember you're seeing the Secretary of State at One today. It's been flagged. Then the Argentinian cultural attaché has ten minutes with you at three, before your meeting with the Senate committee." Mrs Hanley said.

"Right. Thank you." Fitz strode into the Oval and directly out the opposite door, heading for his private study. He shut the door behind him and sat in his chair, putting his head in his hands. Right now, he felt like the biggest piece of shit in America. She didn't deserve that. He'd only planned to keep his distance, but then Mellie had shown up and decided she was in the mood to play the doting wife. He hadn't wanted her to know that anything was up so he'd gone along with it. But he hadn't reckoned on how he'd feel under Olivia's eyes.

Well, he felt terrible.

He hated to think that somewhere in the white House, Olivia Pope was crying and hurt because of him.

This, this didn't feel right. He had to see her, had to explain. What he wanted to do was walk out of here, right now and find her and tell her that he loved her before taking her up to his bed to show her exactly how much he loved her. But he couldn't. He was the most powerful man in the world, but he couldn't even go to check if the girl he liked was alright.

There was a knock at his door.

"Yes!" A sustained bass note of irritation, he knew he'd be lucky to get a full half hour, but he'd hoped for more than 5 minutes.

The door opened.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Sir. But they need you in the Situation Room," Cyrus said.

"Let's go," Fitz said, striding out past Cyrus, he walked away without looking back.

xXx

"Great job, everyone," Lauren could afford to be generous with her praise now that the meeting was over. "You can spend the rest of today fact checking the Medicare numbers for the ways and means committee on Monday. If you get that done go see Tina, she's always got filing that needs to be done. Got it?" Lauren didn't even wait for a response before bustling off to her next meeting.

Without saying a word to draw attention to herself, Olivia slipped quietly out the door and went to the bathroom. She locked herself in the stall furthest from the door and closed the lid of the toilet before sitting down. She leaned her head on the wall and tried to calm her breathing, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. Involuntary sobs wracking her small frame.

"Olivia?" Huck's voice sounded out from the bathroom doorway. "Olivia?" He called again.

Olivia pressed her hands to her cheeks to blot away her tears and tried to calm her breathing, but a sob broke free and Huck was knocking on the door.

"You can't cry here, Olivia. You can't let people see you crying here."

Another muffled sob broke free.

"You can do this. Just get through the day. You can do this." Huck always seemed to know what she needed to hear.

She unlocked the door and came out.

"I just need a minute," Olivia gestured to her reflection.

"I'll be in the mess, I'll get you a coffee." Huck walked out.

Olivia met her own gaze in the mirror. She splashed some cold water on her face and removed the smudges from beneath her eyes. How could she still look like that same girl who had arrived here two months ago? How could the changes wrought upon her soul not be written on her skin and in her eyes?

But there was nothing.

No trace of the love she felt.

Just smudged mascara.

xXx

Fitz sat in the Sit. Room, Cyrus on his right looking at satellite images of the South China Seas while General McAnderson briefed him and Cyrus on the escalating situation there. The Navy intel was that China was undertaking anti-air military exercises, the Chinese response was that these were standard military drills, but McAnderson was concerned it was a show of strength in response to the recent American deployment of three B-52s to challenge Chinese sovereignty of international air space over the South China Sea.

Fitz sat and let it wash over him, he knew Cyrus was lapping it up.

Cyrus lived for this stuff.

He couldn't go on like this. This decision he'd made, to stay away from Olivia. It wasn't working, for either of them.

It was time to accept the truth.

He couldn't stay away from her.

And he wasn't going to anymore. He'd been an idiot. He was an idiot. Here he was, the President of the United States of America, daydreaming about the girl he loved when he should be making informed decisions about US Naval movements.

 _What am I doing?_ Fitz asked himself. Olivia was in pieces, he was distracted and so, so tired of pretending that he didn't need her.

 _Fuck it._

Because, really, he just wanted to have Olivia. Just wanted her, on an elemental level and he didn't have the energy to fight the impulse again.

By the time the briefing was over, Fitz knew exactly two things: one, there was some sort of problem in the South China Sea and two, he desperately needed to see Olivia Pope.

xXx

"Mrs Hanley, could you send in Tom and Hal please?"

"Yes, Sir," immediately, even before Mrs Hanley could relay the message they went in. They'd heard the request themselves.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" Tom asked as they entered the Oval.

"Fine, Tom. I, well, the reason I wanted to speak to you is," Fitz paused. He suddenly felt awkward. He stood up and walked around his desk.

"Tom, Hal. You've been with me a long time. You know me pretty well, I think. What I am about to tell you doesn't leave this room." Fitz looked Tom in the eyes, then Hal.

"Yes?" he demanded.

"You can tell us anything, Sir. We make reports to our superiors, but we can use our discretion." Tom said, looking at Hal, who nodded his agreement.

"Ok." A pause.

"Ok." Another pause.

 _Why was this so hard?_

"So." Fitz began again.

Hal shifted uncomfortably.

"Here it is."

 _Christ, Fitz. Get it together._

"There's this girl."

Tom schooled his features not to betray the shock he felt at hearing this. He never would have expected Fitz to need to have this conversation.

Hal's jaw hung open.

"There's this girl, and I – nothing's happened. Not really. Not yet. But I need to do this in a way that doesn't leave her vulnerable to any sort of character assassination. I don't want her ending up like that Monica girl just because of who I am." Fitz looked at them both. "I just…she's important to me, alright? She's going to be spending some time with me in the residence, when the First Lady's not here. Now, tell me, how is this going to go down?"

Tom looked over at Hal. "There are certain measures we could take, Sir. There are things we could do to ensure this girl can spend some time with you in the White House." He looked over at Hal, who nodded.

"The first step would be to get a couple of disposable cell phones so you don't need to use the official channels to contact her."

"OK, can you organise that for me?"

"Yessir, Mr President."

"One last thing. I need to see her, tonight. I need you to bring her here before she leaves for the day."

"Yessir, Mr President."

Fitz felt almost dizzy with the anticipation of seeing her.

xXx

The remainder of Olivia's day passed in a haze of loss. The initial burn of President Grant's indifference easing into an acute sense of melancholy. She smiled and nodded, worked on the statistics for Medicare while Huck's mantra played over and over in her head.

 _Just get through the day. Just get through the day. Just get through the day._

And now it was late. The uplighters on the wall cast a rich orange light that didn't quite chase the shadows from the corners of the room. Olivia was exhausted. This application didn't even have to be finished until next Friday, but she didn't want to go home yet and she needed to something to do. She was polishing up her personal essay assuming that her experience next week in Comms wouldn't change her mind.

She looked at her watch, 8.52pm. It was getting late. If she left now she could catch the 9.15 Metro and be asleep by 11pm. God, she was an idiot, why had she stayed so late? She was never going to see him again. He'd made that very clear to her this morning.

She gathered up her things and made her way out of the White House. She swiped her card. The guard on duty looked at his monitor.

"Can you wait here one moment, ma'am?" He picked up his phone. "Sir, I have a hold on Pass 619. Yes," He looked at Olivia and frowned slightly. "Understood, Sir." He hung up the phone. "Please move to the side, ma'am."

To Olivia this was simply the last straw.

"What! Why? I need to go, I'm going to miss my train!" Olivia could feel the tears building again behind her eyes. She'd had the most awful day and now this…It was just too much.

"I just want to go home, please," Olivia appealed to the guard.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to just wait here for a moment. Someone's on their way down now to sort this out." The guard moved back to his desk.

Olivia stood to the side and looked down at the floor, trying to hide the falling tears. This was just unbearable.

A pair of polished black Oxfords appeared in her field of vision. She brushed the tears from her face and looked up to see a clean-cut man in his late 40's wearing a dark suit. There was a curly wire travelling from his ear to his collar.

 _Secret Service._

"Come this way please, ma'am," he motioned for Olivia to follow him.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Is there a problem?" Olivia could hear the panic in her voice.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

 _I'm getting thrown off the programme._

 _They've revoked my pass._

 _He must have decided he doesn't want me in the building._

She didn't notice Jake Ballard's standing in the exit. She didn't see him watching as she was escorted back into the West Wing.

To him.

Mrs Hanley's desk was empty.

"He's expecting you, Miss Pope." The agent nodded at the door.

Olivia turned the handle and went inside.

xXx

Fitz was sitting behind his desk waiting for her, looking out of the window. He heard the swish of the door against the plush pile of the carpet and the latch clicking closed.

He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.

 _She's here_. He could feel her.

He swivelled his chair and saw Olivia stood by the door, looking down at the ground. He stood up.

"I'm so glad you're here," he took a few steps towards her but stopped when he saw her flinch back, her small hands clutching her bag in front of her.

"Olivia I," he paused, "will you look at me? Please."

Olivia's big brown eyes swept up to see him.

Fitz felt like he was drowning in a sea of Olivia. All he could see was her soulful eyes reflecting back the agonies he'd been suffering this week ten-fold.

 _Oh, sweetheart._

He walked to the drinks tray and fixed them both a Scotch. He walked over to her, "You look like you need a drink." He handed her the smaller of the two.

Olivia shook her head, her eyes looking at him with suspicion.

"No, thank you. I actually need to leave. I'm going to miss my train. In fact, thanks to your goons I probably already have." Olivia felt suddenly angry.

 _After everything he'd put her through this week, how dare he summon her!_

"Please, Olivia. We need to talk." Fitz said, gently persuasive.

Olivia snorted and turned around as if to leave.

"Sit down, Olivia!" Fitz was panicking that she'd leave and he'd never have a chance to explain.

To Olivia it seemed as though, on top of everything else, he was shouting at her.

She kept her eyes on him as they began to well up. She took the proffered drink then walked to the couch to sit down. She sat, perched on the edge. Determined not to get comfortable, she took a sip. The alcohol burning its way down into her empty stomach making her feel warm and drowsy. When had she last eaten?

"Olivia, I owe you an explanation for my behaviour this week." Fitz began. "I've, well, I thought that I. What I mean to say is -" He paused, unable to continue in the face of her reproachful eyes. He shook his head and took a gulp of his Scotch.

"Goddammit," he murmured into his drink.

He just couldn't think straight around her. He could feel his already limited resolve evaporating. He'd only wanted to check she was alright after earlier on.

"The truth is Olivia, I realised how selfish I was being. You deserve so much more than this. I thought that I was doing the right thing for you, for both of us. But, if the past week has shown me anything it's that I wasn't lying when I said that I couldn't stop seeing you."

Olivia looked at him incredulously, "I don't understand. You've stayed away this week for my _own good_ –" she began, indignant.

"You need to know the truth." Fitz interrupted. "Whatever this is," he said, gesturing to the space between them, "it's dangerous." He edged closer to her, "This is a very dangerous game to play." He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, "For both of us."

Olivia let out a shaky breath as a tingle of electricity rippled around her neck.

Fitz ghosted his lips over Olivia's cheek and mouth before adding, "I really should know better than to let you get involved with me." He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "You deserve more than a life in the shadows." He put his drink down on the table before taking Olivia's and doing the same.

"Do I?" Olivia whispered, closing her eyes.

"Do you feel it too?"

"Yes," Olivia was breathing heavily, almost panting with anticipation.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about how I feel when I'm with you. I can't stop thinking about you," Fitz was beginning to lose it.

"I've missed you. You can't just leave me like that, you can't just disappear. I need you," the words tumbled from Olivia. The release she felt, finally telling him, was immeasurable.

"God, I need you too," Fitz's filter was just gone, torn to shreds in the heat of his lust. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth.

"I'm right here," Olivia groaned.

"Just tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and I won't bother you anymore. You can go on with your life, forget about me and us" Was he warning her or asking her? He didn't know.

Oliva exhaled a shaky breath.

"Tell me to stop," Fitz was so close to losing his mind, he wasn't thinking straight.

"Tell me to stop," Pleading now, he gazed at her with lust-filled eyes.

"We can't stop," Olivia whispered, brushing her lips over his.

 _We can't stop._

It was all he needed to hear.

He groaned, low and guttural.

He kissed her, harder than she had been expecting.

"Mmmm," Olivia moaned softly.

Fitz kissed her harder still, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her tongue met his in a delicious tangle. Fitz couldn't help himself, he stroked up her thigh, over her hip and up her waist. He cupped her breast and grasped, reaching for the feel of her skin in his hand. Like a man possessed he pulled at the neckline of her dress, frustrated at his inability to touch her skin. He was leaning over her now, pressing her back on the couch. His hand moved down and began to run under her skirt, up her thigh.

Fitz pulled back, his eyes hooded and dark, panting.

"God, I want you," Fitz rubbed the top of her thigh and passed his thumb over her panties.

Olivia let out a low moan and closed her eyes. She'd never felt so aroused in her life. She couldn't think straight. She was just a bundle of sensations, his lips on hers, his hands, his scent. The feel of his body pressing into hers. She couldn't think straight. She didn't want him to ever stop.

There was a knock at the door.

Fitz's head swung round to look at the door.

 _Fuck!_

He stood up, his erection straining the front of his pants and motioned to Olivia to do the same.

Another knock.

"Mr President, your guard dog won't let me in, Sir," Cyrus hissed through the door.

 _Tom! Thank God!_

Silently, Fitz pulled Olivia up and pulled her across the Oval. He pointed to the door to his private study.

Olivia nodded and slipped through shutting the door as quietly as she could. The two Marines on duty on the other side didn't react as she went to sit on the couch in there.

"Mr President?" Cyrus was starting to get really pissed off now. He didn't appreciate being held at arms-length like this. He was the Chief of Staff. He wasn't someone who was made to wait outside! He was supposed to be inside the bubble.

Fitz grabbed the two glasses on the side table and walked over to his desk. He quietly slid open the bottom draw, put her glass inside and closed it again.

He sat in his chair and picked up a manila folder from his inbox and opened it up.

"Come in!" he shouted.

Cyrus entered the Oval to see Fitz reading at his desk, Scotch on the table. Fitz always had liked a drink.

"Sir, the situation in the South China Seas has escalated. You're needed in the Sit. Room." Cyrus always tried for nonchalant but now, as ever, just failed to mask his excitement. There was an urgent, needy quality to his tone. He turned and began to walk back to the door, assuming Fitz was following behind.

"Ok, you go ahead," Fitz turned the page he was reading, "I'll be there in a minute."

Cyrus did a slow double take, his mouth opening and closing silently, scratching his head.

 _Like a Goddamn halibut,_ Fitz thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, Mr President. You must have mis-heard me. You are needed, urgently, in the Situation Room to deal with an escalating international incident. There isn't anything else more important. Sir." Cyrus' voice shouting the _Sir_ , his always fragile veneer of calm worn away by having to explain something so _self-evident_ yet again.

Fitz was so sick of Cyrus behaving like he was an idiot. As if he was mentally superior because Fitz was good looking and tall and therefore stupid.

He was such an asshole.

Fitz put down the folder and looked at Cyrus. "I am the Commander in Chief and I will be there in a minute. Please, don't let me keep you." He said in an utterly neutral tone. He picked the dossier back up.

Cyrus huffed out of the room in a cloud of impotent rage.

Fitz waited until the door was completely shut before standing up and walking straight to his study.

Olivia sat on his chair with her hands holding the top of her bag on her lap, touching as little as possible. Fitz noticed that her feet didn't touch the floor. She jumped up when she saw him walk in.

"I'm so sorry, Olivia. There's something that I need to deal with. I'll have an agent take you home."

Olivia let out a small puff of air and gathered herself up to walk to the door, "I understand. Thank you, Sir."

 _He was brushing her off again._

 _He'd come back to his senses._

 _She'd blown it, he'd realised his mistake and he was sending her home._

Fitz watched her retreat into herself in front of his eyes. He had to make her understand that he'd stay with her if he could.

"Olivia, sweetheart." He took a step towards her. "If it were up to me I'd spend the night with you," Fitz began.

Olivia felt an unfamiliar heat pooling in her stomach, felt herself flush red.

He saw he'd embarrassed her. "I mean, not spend the night, just I'd rather stay with you but I can't. I can't tell you why. It's, uh, well it's a matter of National Security. Can I see you again? Tomorrow?" He asked, suddenly less sure of himself.

Olivia couldn't help herself, a huge smile broke out across her face. She nodded, not trusting herself enough to speak.

"Tom's going to organise for you to be taken home. Goodnight, Olivia." He pulled her into him and kissed her hair before walking away.

"Goodnight, Mr President."

She sat down and waited to find out how she was going to get home.

xXx

Later that night, Olivia lay in her bed and imagined Fitz's solid presence on her back. She imagined his breath on her neck, his arms wrapped around her and fell asleep with his voice in her ear.

xXx

Olivia was sat next to the window on a coach. Abbey was next to her, animatedly talking to Quinn who was opposite the aisle. She turned and watched her reflection in the glass as it rolled over the streets of DC. Her last day working in the Chief of Staff's office. She'd miss it, she thought to herself. She'd enjoyed the work. She'd enjoyed working on the Chinese personnel files. She'd enjoyed meeting the President. She'd enjoyed kissing him. She'd enjoyed feeling his hand running up her skirt. Olivia shook her head, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts that had been plaguing her every waking moment.

 _What was happening to her?_

 _Was tonight the night?_

Along with the other interns, Lauren and Mark and various other staffers she was going to hear President Grant give a speech to launch his new Education initiative. As a reward for their hard work, and as it was their last day before their Comms rotation, Lauren had arranged for them to attend tonight's reception. But first, they were headed to a high school to hear the President outline his vision to reform Higher Education funding. Lauren had briefed them before they left. They were planning to help students from low income families who wanted to go to college by providing a mean-tested grant to the poorest students. The money was going to come from a tax banding that added a 2% hike on to the richest 2% in the country. Olivia could see the irony of it, this initiative would have covered 50% of her fees. She was going to owe around $50,000 by the time she graduated. That wasn't even counting her credit card. The other interns all came from money, she could smell it on them.

Even if they thought they didn't, they did.

Olivia thought about her Mom, raising her in that tiny house in West Baltimore. How hard it had been, how she'd been cold and hungry more often than she could count. How tired her Mom was, all the time. This kind of opportunity would have been amazing. Olivia could have sent the extra money home to help out instead of having to pay it back off her debts. and the other interns were travelling in a mini bus with Lauren and Mark to the school where he was going to launch it.

"President Grant is such a rock star. I remember seeing him during the primary debates, when he was up against that idiot, what was his name?" Harrison asked the group.'

"Um, was it Bob Fletcher?" Quinn asked.

"Nah, it was after he'd dropped out, it was that other guy. The one with the hair," Huck chimed in.

"David Johnson," Jake supplied.

"Yes, David Johnson!" Harrison slapped his hands together. Grant completely eviscerated the guy. Made him look like a total moron. One of the best things I've ever seen on TV." Harrison laughed to himself.

Olivia sat, looking out the window at the rear of the Presidential motorcade. Behind a procession of armoured cars, agents and guns was the man she loved. What she wouldn't give to be sat beside him right now.

 _Tonight._

She tingled all over when she imagined seeing him later. Would he kiss her? Would he press his hard body into hers? Would he slip his hands up her dress again? She crossed her legs tightly, acutely aware of the heavy pulsing between her legs. Would he ask her to stay? Would she finally be his?

At the venue they slipped in the back and stood against the wall. Olivia found herself standing next the wall with Jake on her left.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!"

The audience stood up as the band started to play Hail to the Chief.

And there he was, walking onto stage. He waved to the audience, smiling, before taking his place at the podium.

He took a moment to look around the room and began. Fitzgerald Grant was no slouch but he wasn't a serious academic. When it came to oratory, however, he was world class. A smooth, liquid baritone of eloquent rhetoric poured out over the crowd, who lapped it up. Olivia watched, spellbound. It felt like he was speaking directly to her. Jake nudged her with his elbow. Olivia ignored him.

Jake turned slightly to whisper into her ear, "He's really something, isn't he?"

"Shhh," Olivia mouthed to him.

Fitz spotted her just as she did and watched as the man next to her leant towards her and whispered into her ear, his hand resting on her waist as he did. He felt a surge of pure white-hot loathing for the guy. He paused a beat, staring daggers at Jake Ballard, before continuing with his speech.

Cyrus, stood to the side, narrowed his eyes at Fitz and looked out at the crowd.

 _What the hell was that?_

But all he could see was the crowd applauding while the president waved.

xXx

Cyrus Beene was no-one's fool.

He had known Fitz for years, since his first campaign for Governor, back in '95. He'd had a front row seat to the total collapse of his marriage. Seen Mellie's affairs first hand.

But this was something new.

Through all of that he'd always been on the inside.

But now, something was different.

Fitz was different somehow.

He'd been edgy all week, longer if Cyrus thought about it. He'd glitched on stage while he'd been giving his speech. And he'd been MIA in the Sit Room earlier on.

It wasn't like him.

Which meant that something was happening with him, but he wasn't talking to Cyrus about it.

And if Fitz wasn't talking to him, that meant something was happening that he didn't want Cyrus to know about. Which meant it was something Cyrus needed to know about. There was more at stake here than policy and governance. Fitz couldn't be allowed to adversely affect the legacy he had worked so hard to create.

While Cyrus ruminated on this he walked from his office to the Oval.

"Is he in?" he asked Mrs Hanley.

"Yes, Sir. I'll just see if he's available," Mrs Hanley picked up the phone. "Mr Beene, Sir." She put down the handset. "You can go in now, Sir," Mrs Hanley passed on.

Cyrus simply nodded, annoyed that she'd felt the need to check.

"What can I do for you, Cyrus?" boomed Fitz at once conveying his acknowledgement of their necessary professional relationship and his utter contempt for the man.

"Mr President," Cyrus replied. "How are you this evening, Sir?

Fitz didn't look up from the dossier he was reading.

Cyrus stood there in front of the Resolute Desk, waiting for the president to acknowledge what he had said. "You seem well," Cyrus went on beginning to look around the room, exasperated by the total lack of propriety and respect afforded to him by this young whelp. This nobody, that he had raised from nothing.

Fitz continued to read.

Cyrus wanted to scream.

The thing was, _the thing was,_ he was a patriot.

He would lay down his life for Fitzgerald Grant, the President of the United States. But Fitz the man? Well, Cyrus wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.

He'd had every opportunity in life handed to him. Looks, money, power. And he was just so Goddamned ungrateful for all of it.

He was just another pretty boy when Cyrus had taken that raw potential and moulded it into something he could sell to the American people. His life's work was sitting behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office _and he wouldn't even pay him the courtesy of looking at him!_

Cyrus was so adept of masking his rage that while these thoughts were burning through his mind he only stood patiently waiting with a benign smile on his face while Fitz finished reading. The only clue to how he was feeling was the small veins jumping around his eyes.

"I'm great Cy. How about you?"

Fitz looked up from the document he was reading at last.

"You're looking at little tired," he added.

Fitz knew he was wrong to bait Cyrus but the man just took himself so seriously.

For a split-second Cyrus looked positively apoplectic but his features settled into a benign smile.

"Well, one of the perks of the job, Mr President," Cyrus quipped, looking around the room to avoid eye contact. "And the first lady? How did her fundraiser go?" Cyrus knew as well as Fitz what Mellie's fundraiser was a cover for. One of their unspoken agreements over the years was that they never, ever alluded to Mellie's extra-curricular activities.

"Well, Cy," Fitz knew that Cyrus hated to be called Cy, "I really wouldn't know. You'd be better off asking Andrew or William or whoever it is she's sleeping with these days. I'm sure they'd be able to fill you in on all the details of it much better than me."

"Sir?" Cyrus felt something leaden lodge in his stomach. Something had to be very, very wrong if Fitz was openly talking about Mellie's ongoing adultery.

"If you want to know how Mellie is," Fitz clarified, "you should ask her. I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to her in weeks."

"Mr President?" Cyrus could feel the wheels falling off his well-oiled machine.

"We'll have to pick this little chat up another time, Cyrus," Fitz got up and walked Cyrus to the door.

Cyrus was outside the Oval before he knew what had happened to him.

"Mother of God," Cyrus said to himself quietly.

Something was rotten in the state of DC, and Cyrus was going to find out what it was.

xXx

 **A/N: So, a late post, sorry about that. Reviews are gratefully received. Next chapter will be sexy times, pinky promise.**

 **dark, x.**


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